Culture Shock
by Spiritus Scriptor
Summary: Post-BoFA. Erebor is reclaimed and Thorin is king. It all starts when Bilbo is innocently invited to attend the coronation as an honored guest, and ends up a decorated war hero, receiving the attentions of a beautiful woman...who also happens to be Thorin's cousin. For the first time in his life, he must question whether a quiet life in the Shire is what he really wants.
1. Chapter 1

**Never fear, Fallen Compatriot is still in the works. This was just rattling around in my brain while I was thinking about which direction to take it. This one is happy-ish, Thorin, Fili, and Kili survive the BoFA and Thorin reclaims the throne. **

**I'm the kind of person who likes to learn about other cultures, and and I thought, "Hmm, what would Dwarvish culture be like?" To me they seem like a very dignified clan/tribe, so I got this idea for a story where they decorate Bilbo as a war hero according to their customs and he gets a little case of culture shock, hence the title.** **And fun times ensue. **

* * *

Bilbo awoke in his tent at the sound of movement outside. The day was just dawning and the dwarves were already at work rebuilding Erebor. The only reason he was still here was because he was recovering from battle wounds. His arm was tightly bandaged—he'd been left with a gash from an orc blade that, all the healers said, would leave him permanently scarred. It was a wonder, they had said, that such a small person had pulled through. He was expected to make a full recovery.

Outside, dwarves milled about, forges had been set up, and repair work was in full force. Men from the nearby city of Dale had even come to help, most being employed as carpenters. Bilbo had been deemed still unfit to work due to his injuries—which suited him fine. Hobbits were not known for their building skills. Looking around for a familiar face, he found Ori discussing the reconstruction of an ancient mural with an artisan from Dale. He was pointing at a piece of parchment, giving him a quick lesson in the Khuzdul alphabet.

"No, no…this is…" he said, followed by unintelligible grunting sounds that marked the dwarves' ancient language. _He should ask Bifur_, Bilbo thought comically.

"Bilbo!" a happy voice called out. Turning, he saw that it belonged to Kili, Thorin's youngest nephew. He waved as he walked towards the hobbit. Approaching, he said, "I was wondering when you'd be up! Listen, I have great news. Thorin wishes to invite you to his coronation. We've just discussed it this morning, and he wants you to remain. The company, all twelve, are to be his honored guests."

"I'd be delighted," Bilbo accepted. "But that means I'd have to stay even longer, wouldn't it?" he asked somewhat glumly.

"Yes. I know you're homesick, but…I mean, how many people, let alone hobbits, can say they've witnessed a coronation, or been a close friend of a king? At least you'll have some tales to tell."

He arched an eyebrow. "I suppose you're right."

"Have you had breakfast?" Kili asked.

"No."

"Let's fix that, shall we?" Kili led him toward a cook tent . Sitting him down, he brought him a plate of sausage and toast, and a mug of ale. Bilbo suddenly felt uncomfortable. Kili was, after all, a prince. Even though he wasn't next in line for the throne, it felt odd to have a descendant from the proud line of Durin waiting on him. The dwarf didn't seem to notice. He had never really known a life of privilege, and so wasn't bothered by it.

"So, Bilbo, what do you think of this place?" he asked, plopping down across from him with another mug of ale. "I've never seen it before either."

"It's very….nice." Bilbo said, searching for a term that wasn't _ravaged by a dragon_. Though really, from what he'd seen, it looked a very gloomy place. Green stone walls and columns, and no windows. It was a place where he wouldn't have liked to spend very much time.

"Well, Thorin seems happy here, so I suppose I have to get used to being royalty now," Kili smirked over his ale. "I don't think I ever will," he confided.

"It may be better if you don't let it get to your head," Bilbo said.

"Maybe," Kili agreed.

Just then, a dwarf woman came into the tent. Bilbo had never seen a dwarf woman before. She was short and stocky, with a square face. The rumors of bearded dwarf women weren't true. Bilbo thought that she was almost pretty. As he looked, she turned towards him, and their gaze met for an instant. He looked down, embarrassed, and when he raised his head again, she was nowhere in sight.

"Bilbo?" Kili asked, waving his hand. "Hellooo?"

Bilbo shot his head up. "What? Sorry."

* * *

**Yeah, this chapter was kinda crap. But it serves its purpose. We get the picture. **

**R&R please! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Reviews and favorites already. My, my. This might not be as bad as I thought. Thanks, everybody!**

**Oh, and: If I owned anything, do you really think I'd be writing this? Me neither.**

* * *

Within weeks, Erebor began to repopulate. Exiled dwarves came from all over Middle Earth to reclaim their home. Among them was Thorin's sister Dis, who was curious to know why her brother had let a hobbit come on their journey. She insisted on being introduced. Needless to say, it was awkward for Thorin, who wasn't used to giving proper introductions. His introduction to Bilbo was more an interrogation.

"Sister, this is our burglar, Mr. Baggins." Thorin said, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. "Bilbo, this is my sister, Dis."

"So this is the hobbit," she said, in a more pleasant tone than Thorin had when they'd first met. "It's an honor to meet you."

"The honor is mine," Bilbo replied taking her outstretched hand. "After all, you're sister to the king."

"Yes, but he wouldn't be king, without your help. Thank you for restoring our home to us." she smiled. "I hope my sons weren't too much trouble along the way?"

"Oh, no…"Bilbo started to say.

"Yes," Thorin interrupted, smiling. Bilbo had never really seen him smile. He was a hard person to read, and he got the feeling that only Dis truly knew him.

"Was it not hard for you to leave home?" she asked. "I know you must not have liked the wilderness much. Hobbits are very particular, are they not?"

Disregarding this question as genuine curiosity, he answered. "At first, it was. I worried about foolish things, but as time went by, I realized they were never all that important. What was important was getting your home back. I had one, and they didn't. That was the main difference between us."

Dis smiled. "I thank you for your bravery. You have brought us great happiness. I wonder if—well, I—Thorin has asked if you would join us for dinner tonight. Since you're leaving after the coronation, there won't be much time left to hear about your adventures."

"It would be my pleasure," said Bilbo.

* * *

On his way back to his room—he'd been given his own quarters in the palace once the dragon's mess had been cleared—he ran into Fili.

"Hello, Bilbo. Meeting my mother wasn't too trying, I hope?"

"No, not at all. She was very kind."

"She has quite a temper. When Kili and I were children…" he broke off. "But I suppose you don't want to hear about that. There is another reason I sought you out." He shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Yes?"

"I don't suppose I could, or any of us, could persuade you to stay? As much as you liked your home, you didn't have anyone. You lived alone, with just your books and your garden. And here you have friends, and people who are more grateful to you than you'll ever know."

"I don't think it would be a good idea," Bilbo thought aloud. "How long could the hero status possibly last, before I just became 'the hobbit' once more? Just the one underfoot, the outcast who doesn't belong?" He didn't want to admit it, but Thorin's harsh words at the beginning of their adventure had stayed with him somewhat fiercely.

"As much as I would like to say that would never happen, I can't speak for everyone here." Fili sighed. "I'll be sorry to see you go. But you will visit again, won't you?"

"I suppose, if I can manage." replied Bilbo. He knew Fili was telling the truth—he would miss him. And Kili,too. And—everyone. But he was a hobbit, and hobbits didn't belong here.

They had arrived at his door. Bilbo was about to go in when Kili stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "They invited you to dinner?"

"Yes, why?"

"You'll, er…you'll need to dress the part. Would you like me to help you? It will be less embarrassing for both of us."

"What do you mean, less embarrassing?"

Fili led him inside, and began pulling things out of the wardrobe. "Tomorrow, you will be preparing for the ceremony, so you won't have time for this." Out came a green tunic edged in gold thread, brown trousers, and boots. Bilbo had never worn shoes in his life. "Am I right in thinking you don't know how to walk in shoes?" Fili asked matter-of-factly.

"That's right."

"Then let's teach you."

* * *

**So they want him to stay...but will he? We shall see...**

**R&R please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**As it turns out, this story is even more involved than my last one. I've been poring over maps of Middle Earth and reading little mini-bio things of all the dwarves just so I can keep this story straight...how's that for dedication? :) I know, I know...I'm a nerd. But it's okay. I enjoy useless extensive research sometimes. **

**Anywho, thanks to all of you who have reviewed so far. I thought it was an odd little story myself, I just didn't think anyone else would like it. But you do, so yippee!**

**I'm not sure whether this chapter or the next will be my last update for awhile. I write fast, but I'm back in classes next week (woo, college!) and may or may not have a job on top of that. So yeah. Updates. Those things. If I ever add a chapter that is just barely or not at all coherent, let me know. It probably means I'm strung out on caffeine and/or haven't slept in about 72 hours. I did that once. It wasn't pretty. **

**In short, to all you lovelies, I dedicate another chapter.**

* * *

"I think you'd better wear something less formal tonight," Fili observed, watching Bilbo wince in agony as he walked about the room in the heavy boots. "You'll forgive me for saying this, but I think your clothes have seen better days."

He was right. His jacket and waistcoat were torn and dirty—somewhere along the way he had lost his spare set of clothes, and anyway, they had been worn out long before that. Luckily, he had been provided with dwarven attire that had been altered to fit. He wasn't opposed to wearing dwarf clothes. He was, however, opposed to two things. The boots, and what Fili was about to tell him.

"Tomorrow, as part of our honored company, you'll be expected to have several things done before the ceremony the next day. You'll have braids, a tattoo, as a mark of bravery, and be fitted with an earring, signifying the number of battles you've been in."

"_Tattoos_?" he asked incredulously. "An earring? I'm sorry, I can't. If I went back to the Shire like that…"

"I'm sorry. I know it must come as a shock…"

"A shock? This is completely barbaric!" cried the hobbit. Then, realizing his error, he corrected himself. "I'm sorry. What I meant was…" when he looked over, he noticed that Fili's expression had changed, and he was now trying to keep his temper.

"Barbaric?" the dwarf questioned. "Is that what we are to you?" His nostrils flared visibly. "This is what you call our kindness? _Barbarism_?"

Bilbo knew Fili was hurt. He had unintentionally called him inferior. He'd said this to an heir to one of the greatest strongholds of the East. Men had probably died for less.

Looking down at his boot-clad feet, he muttered, "Fili…I'm sorry. I apologize. Of course I will do whatever your customs say." He offered a smile, but Fili merely glared with a gaze cold enough to freeze over hell.

Brushing past him, Fili sauntered out of the room in much the same way that Bilbo had watched him come through his front door those many months ago. But this time he shook with rage. The hobbit was left standing in the middle of the room, quite literally shaking in his boots and wondering if his invitation to dinner was now invalid.

* * *

Whether hours or minutes passed, he didn't know. At long last, he climbed out of the chair by the fireplace where he had sat frozen since Fili's departure. Walking over to the wardrobe, he shoved a chair over and climbed up to get a less formal change of clothes. He chose a rust-red tunic with trim and another pair of brown trousers. That would have to do. He decided he would wear the boots tonight, even though they were too narrow and his feet were killing him.

It must have been hours that had passed, he concluded, as no sooner had he finished dressing than Kili bounded into his room without so much as a knock on the door.

"Are you ready?" he asked cheerfully. "Sorry about Fili—he's just worried about being crown prince now, so he's putting on all sorts of airs. But you know he still cares for you. It was his idea you'd consider staying here…"

"Yes, he mentioned that—before I insulted him. And you. And every dwarf in Erebor."

"Why, what did you do?" Kili looked puzzled. "It couldn't have been _that_ bad."

"Well, I sort of…called your customs barbaric." Bilbo instantly wanted to slap himself across the face. "I mean, the uh…hero's decorations."

"Ah, those…" Kili trailed. "I've got some. They don't have to be visible, you know."

"They don't? Fili told me they were a mark of honor, so I assumed…"

"They're used for a number of things," Kili said, shoving up his sleeve to reveal numerous Khuzdul letterings. "Including rites of passage."

"Well, I feel much better now," Bilbo remarked.

"Good!" smiled Kili. "Now, let's go down to the hall. You must be starved."

Bilbo found himself seated next to Kili as the first course was brought. He was no longer shocked to find that there was little formality among them, though they were of noble descent. As dinner began, the brothers were immediately reaching towards the center of the table for a platter of venison. That is, before Dis smacked both their hands and passed them the plate. Thorin cleared his throat. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable, but about what no one could guess. That was, until the large double doors banged open and a young woman rushed in, taking a seat across from Bilbo. The same woman he had seen in the cook tent not three weeks ago. She glanced at him shyly before turning her attention to Thorin.

"Thorin, Dis." she acknowledged. "Lovely to see you again. It's been far too long. Thank you for inviting me." Thorin merely nodded at her greeting.

Dis, however, introduced her. "Fili, Kili, this is your cousin Eider. I don't think you've ever met."

Thorin leaned over to Dis and Bilbo could just hear him mutter, "How exactly is she related to us?"

"She's mother's brother's daughter," Dis whispered back, somewhat angrily. "Eider, dear. Help yourself." She said, handing her a plate.

Eider—so that was her name—looked up at him again, and asked quietly, "And…you are?"

Bilbo's words caught in his throat. He could not believe she was speaking to him, or that she seemed to remember him from a glance nearly a month ago. "Er…" he began.

"This is Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire." Kili finished for him. "Our burglar."

"Ah, the hobbit." She remarked. How many more times would he hear that? She looked at him. He had not noticed before, but she had the most piercing green eyes he had ever seen. "Welcome."

"Thank you," he said shyly.

To his surprise, she turned her full attention to him for the rest of the meal. "What is the Shire like? I've never heard anything about it."

"Well," he began, trying to ignore Fili and Kili, who were trying their best not to giggle. "It's nothing like here. We…we live in, um…holes in the ground. And, well…I suppose that's sort of like here, but…it's cozy and I have a little garden. Um…" He could have cursed himself a thousand times for acting like this. It wasn't like him to be shy. Unsure of himself, at times, but he was never a stammering fool. And besides, she was a dwarf and he was a hobbit. And she was cousin to the king, for heaven's sake. There would not be anything more than conversation between them, he was certain of that.

Her actions, however, spoke otherwise. She smiled and laughed throughout their dialogue, and made everyone else at the table visibly uneasy. Thorin looked ready to snap his fork in two with his teeth at one point. "So, you're a burglar," she said. "What did you…burgle?"

"I'd rather not say, miss." Bilbo said as Thorin shot him the same look that Fili had given him earlier. He had taken the Arkenstone and tried to barter it. Suddenly, he felt every bit the traitor he knew he was. It was unforgivable.

* * *

**And here we are introduced to my OC, who might end up just having a bit part in this saga, depending on how things turn out. I wasn't really sure how she should be related at first. I had to rewrite this chapter, because I had written this epic retelling of how, once they were exiled, Frerin went his own separate way and came to Ered Luin years later with a daughter, which would have made her Thorin's niece. I changed it because I thought it would complicate things and make them less friendly towards her...if you get my drift. Plus, I think Frerin died in a battle before the whole Smaug business, so that wouldn't have worked anyway. Don't know. Haven't read the book...yet. **

**And so you get "_How_ is she related to us, again?"**

**Yeah. Weak. **

**Anyway, R&R, please! Hypothetical cookies as a reward!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, everybody. It's been awhile. Classes started this week and I am running on about three hours of sleep a night, because I'm full time AND looking for a job. Oh the joys of being a responsible "adult". Yeah. **

**Here is a terribly short chapter of Bilbo's thoughts. Next one is in the works and should be better. I'm planning to update Fallen Compatriot soon as well. Finally got over my writer's block. Now I just need the time to write...**

* * *

"If ye really feel that way, laddie, you can come with us." Bofur offered. He and Bilbo were seated in a kitchen, and Bilbo had just told him the events that had transpired that evening. Bombur had offered to serve as the cook for the time being. Bofur, of course, was helping. "We're not planning on staying past the coronation either, not being from the line of Durin and all."

"Where will you go?" asked Bilbo.

"Wherever fate may take us," he answered wistfully. "I'd have no hesitation on going back to the Blue Mountains. I know Balin's planning to go to Moria—perhaps we'll go with him. But it'd be no trouble going a wee bit farther to the Shire."

"Surely Thorin must have offered you a place at court?" questioned the Halfling. "You have served him well."

"Well…yes and no." Bofur seemed strangely uneasy. "I think our great king is remembering his place now. If we were to stay, Bombur would be doing exactly what he is now. I'd be in charge of the stables, and Bifur…who knows. Thorin never mentioned anything about him. I don't think he'd have a use for an addled dwarf."

"I didn't expect he would be so cold," Bilbo shifted uncomfortably. "I thought we had all earned his trust."

"As did I," agreed Bofur. A while passed before either of them spoke again. When they did, Bilbo only offered a quiet departure before going off to bed.

"See ye tomorrow, Bilbo." smiled the other. "But remember no matter what ye decide to do, we're all family to ye now—all of us. We'll make sure you're all right."

"Thank you," he said, closing the door behind him. Still, he wasn't so sure.

* * *

Bilbo lay awake in the vast bed, staring up at the curtain above him, unable to sleep. Had Thorin or Fili told Dis of the incident with the Arkenstone? If so, he was sure he would no longer be welcomed. In truth, the only thing that had stopped Thorin from killing him when he found out had been Bofur's fast reaction, tearing him out of the angry dwarf's crushing grip. Perhaps it would be better if he did go back with the three—to Moria, perhaps, they'd said. He could go back with them, spend the rest of his day in rowdy, reveling company. Or he could go back to the Shire in peace and quiet. Or he could stay here and—and what? What would he do here?

Something else weighed on his mind. The ring. The gold ring he had stolen from that riddling creature. It spoke to him, sometimes, when he was alone in the dark. It promised him greatness and wealth. It promised prosperity for the Shire. At first, it had been easy to ignore. But as time went by, it became more insistent, practically whispering in his ear all the selfish things he had ever wanted. He kept it in the pocket of the waistcoat he no longer wore, but sometimes found himself returning to his room just to hold it for a moment, and then leave again.

It had some special power, he was certain of that now. It had the power to corrupt. That must have been what happened to the creature—it had had a name once, perhaps a home and a family, but it had been driven mad by the insidiousness of that small piece of metal. Bilbo knew he had to get rid of it, and soon. He could easily "lose" it among the piles of gold they had shoveled out of the palace, but there came the risk of somebody finding it eventually. And he never wanted that to happen. No, he would have to dispose of it once and for all. But how?

Never mind that, there were all the pre-coronation things to worry about tomorrow. He had angered Fili beyond forgiveness, he was sure of that. The dwarf had not spoken to him since before dinner, and did not seem likely to again. Kili had been reassuring, but then again, Kili was one of the most good-natured of the thirteen he had spent the past several months with. In fact, they had become rather good friends, along with Ori and Bofur. He would be sad to leave—no doubt he'd be lonely. He'd become used to being surrounded by raucous company.

At long last, he sat up and stared into the dying embers of the fireplace. Dropping his head into his hands, he sighed heavily. He wanted to stay. He wanted to leave. He wanted quiet. He wanted laughter. The poor hobbit didn't know what he wanted, really. Perhaps if he followed the dwarves' customs, he would win back their favor enough to make a concrete decision.

Finding some comfort in that, Bilbo lie back down and fell into a worried, restless sleep.

* * *

**Wrote the first part of this awhile ago and hadn't looked at it since. Hopefully it's more coherent than I am right now. **

**As always, read, review, suggest, critique. You know the drill. Especially suggest and critique. I fear for the quality of my writing these days...**

**And now for some coffee and another all-nighter...yippee. :P**

**Hoping all of you are doing better than I am, **

**-S. S. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Today I told one of my friends that she's birthday buddies with Bilbo Baggins (how's that for alliteration?). She looked at me funny. **

**Anyhoo, this was a very fun chapter to write. I tortured Bilbo a little bit, but it's all in good fun. :)**

**Oh yeah, and a sidenote: As with my other story, I will be adding accents in the names from now on, since I finally realized they were there. **

* * *

Bilbo was awoken early the next morning by a very excited Kíli. He had tried to be quiet, Bilbo was sure, but quiet was not Kíli's strongest point.

"Bilbo," he murmured hurriedly, shaking him awake. "Bilbo! Wake up!"

"Huh?" the other asked drowsily, propping himself up on his elbow. "What time is it?"

"It's just past eight, but there's a lot that needs to be done. Fíli has instructed me to see that you are properly attended to today. Very firmly, I might add." he said with a grin.

"Is he still angry with me?" Bilbo questioned groggily, sliding out of the large bed and reaching for his dressing gown.

"No. He just—tends to take things to heart too quickly. He's sort of like Thorin that way. Very proud." Kíli chuckled. "He was the first one to suggest you stay with us. I told him you never would, but…" he left off in a hopeful tone. "Anyway, first off, I'm to see that you get a bath before you have your hair braided. Then it's on to the real fun." he grinned devilishly

"Oh, dear." It was all Bilbo could do not to wring his hands. "You mean…being punctured?"

"Yep." Bilbo could tell his friend was stifling a bout of laughter. "But I'll be there to…erm…hold your hand." He finally lost control of himself and howled with mirth.

"Oh, very funny." Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"Ah, come on." Kíli thumped him on the shoulder. "Let's get you ready."

* * *

Needless to say, the bath was the most pleasant part of Bilbo's day. The large bathing pool to which he'd been ushered was deep (for him) and he actually had to swim around to keep his head above water. Nevertheless, it was the most decent wash he'd had in a while, and he relished every minute of it. However, all too soon it ended and it was time for, as Kíli had put it, the "real fun" to begin.

First up was the braiding. Most of the dwarves were accustomed to this—except Kíli, who winced right alongside Bilbo as their hair was combed out, pulled back, and woven into the tiny intricate braids that marked Dwarvish hairstyles.

"Hold_ still_, lad." ordered Dori, who was braiding Bilbo's hair. "Or I'll have to start over again." Bilbo looked over at Kíli, who was unfortunate enough to have Dwalin in charge of his. He looked as though he were praying Dwalin didn't rip half his hair from his head in the process.

Fíli leaned in the doorframe and laughed at the unlucky pair. "Hurts, doesn't it, brother? You see, if you'd let us do the braids in your hair when you were four, like a _normal_ dwarf, you'd be used to this by now."

"Shut up, Fíli." his younger brother grimaced as Dwalin began twisting in the pewter beads that would hold his hair in place.

"At least you didn't have to have any done on your beard." Fíli smirked, twirling his braided moustache. "That's truly painful—oh, wait. You don't have one."

"Shut _up_, Fíli." Kíli repeated with a growl. Bilbo couldn't help but laugh, but his laughter turned to yelps of pain as beads were added to his hair as well. Remarkably, it didn't look as bad as he'd expected. Four small braids spanned the length of his head, ending in beaded strands. Kíli's, though, looked like a nightmare. Obviously Dwalin had tried to make his braids look like Fíli's, but as Kíli's hair was thinner, none of it had remained loose.

Fíli and Kíli both then shuffled him off to the piercer. For the most part, the brothers were experiencing these things for the first time as well—at least, in a ceremonial regard. The Halfling felt better knowing he was not the only one trying not to groan in pain as a needle-thin drill was turned through his ear and a small silver hoop inserted. But it was the final and most painful of the markings that he dreaded.

* * *

Fíli, Kíli, Bofur, and Dori had to hold the screaming hobbit down to the table while the top layer of skin at the edge of his collarbone just below his right shoulder was perforated and the ash tapped in. It didn't help that Ori was up next, and he lingered just outside the door, listening to the frantic yells of pain from his friend. Bilbo caught sight of him a few times as he drew in another lungful of air to scream. The poor boy was white as a sheet.

At long last, a pad of gauze was placed over his chest, and his shirt put back on. Staggering out into the hallway, he leaned against the wall to catch his breath while Ori was taken in.

"Don't worry," he gasped, tugging Ori's sleeve as he passed. "I'm sure it won't be that bad for you. I just have a…low pain tolerance."

Bleeding, wincing, and clutching his chest, Bilbo was half-carried, half-dragged back to his room to rest.

"We'll bring food," the brothers promised.

"You look spent," said Fíli, patting Bilbo lightly on the shoulder.

"You're not angry?" Bilbo asked Fíli. Kíli had assured him time and time again that he was not, but he had to ask for himself.

"No." the other assured. "That was a bit out of line, wasn't it? Just trying to live up to my proud heritage, you know." His lips quirked up in a smirk, and Bilbo knew he was genuine. "Are you sure you won't stay?"

Again that hopeful question. Future king or not, he would always remain boyish to some degree. Kíli had shifted Bilbo's weight and turned to glance at him, grinning.

"I've thought about it, but I think the best thing to do is to go home. That's where I belong. You're where you belong now, too." He grimaced at the pain under his skin. "Bofur has offered to take me back with him, Bombur, and Bifur. Said he'd be willing to go all the way to the Shire."

"Well, if you'll be looked after, it'll be fine. We just don't want you venturing into the wilderness all by your little lone self!" Fíli roared, as they reached Bilbo's room. "Mahal knows we had to get you out of enough scrapes as it is!"

No sooner had they crossed the threshold than he felt the pull of the ring. It was getting ever stronger, and if he didn't do something about it soon, he would surely go insane. The brothers left to get him the food they'd promised, and in the brief time he had before they returned, he took the ring from the pocket of his worn yellow waistcoat, turning it over and over again in his fingers. "Soon, my _precious_," he snarled. "I will be rid of you."

* * *

**I actually researched the history of tattooing for this chapter, and yes, before ink, ash was commonly used. And a scalpel-type thing to slice your skin open. Ouch. **

**But not to worry. They'll make a dwarf of him yet...**

**I had a little giggle while writing the Ori part. Can you imagine him looking in on that?**

**Anyway, please review! Reviews make me happy! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Well. I'm on a roll of updates. I actually wrote this awhile ago and never posted it. So I decided to change the end of it around because I didn't like where I left off, and here it is. **

**Hopefully it won't be another two weeks before I upload, but I have a ten-page research paper to work on for the next month. Wahoo. **

**Ergo, here may be the last installment for quite awhile. Enjoy!**

* * *

"My friends," Thorin roared over the din in the great hall. "It is my greatest honor and privilege to sit before you as King under the Mountain. And it is all thanks…" he said, sweeping a hand over the long table where the company sat. "to our brave company, for defeating Smaug once and for all, and bringing us back our home!"

Cheers rang out across the hall and glasses were raised as Thorin motioned for his companions to stand. Bilbo watched in awe as the guests, in waves, bowed to the thirteen. Fíli and Kíli, of course, were seated at Thorin's side, wearing crowns of hammered silver and looking slightly uncomfortable. At his other side were Dis and Eider, who, as part of his few surviving relatives, was granted a seat at the king's table.

Bilbo was seated between Ori and Bofur, and the two had burst into infectious happy laughter the moment the cheers had started. Everyone was laughing now. Kíli glanced in Bilbo's direction, winked, and nodded towards Eider, who was smiling shyly at him. He then mouthed something that Bilbo translated as "she likes you", but he couldn't be sure. His attention was brought back to the crowd which had gone back to feasting and drunkenly singing. He was still unused to the dwarves' informality. Even at a king's coronation feast they were given to riot.

After the formalities were over and the group had been congratulated, the atmosphere relaxed and dissolved from its previous hierarchy. Everyone mingled with each other, regardless of class or station. The group alongside Thorin's table huddled around each other, smashing together tankards of ale in celebration. Before long, a drinking song had been started up and spread to the first few tables of guests. Maybe Erebor wasn't so bad after all, thought Bilbo. It wasn't home, but it was fun.

No sooner had he given a thought to this than something else drew his attention. A figure in indigo velvet and fur stood before him. His gaze traveled upwards to rest on the startling green eyes of Eider. Each time he saw her, he could swear she looked even lovelier. Heart leaping into his throat, he managed to squeak out a timid "hello."

She laughed and held out a hand. "Hello again, Mr. Baggins. I was just wondering if you'd like to have a dance?" Looking past her, Bilbo could see that people had gathered in the center of the cavernous space and were stomping awkwardly. As they were mostly men, there were few couples dancing. Still, why had _she_ asked _him_? He decided it was best not to argue and followed her out into the crowd.

Her black hair, done in a thick bound braid, bounced as she eagerly led him into the center of the floor. Taking her hand, he attempted to try a waltz, but it was exceptionally awkward as she clearly didn't know how, and the height difference between them meant that his hand ended up being just above her…well, he didn't want to think about it.

They ended up holding hands and dancing apart, like an adult and child. The crowd of—very masculine—dwarves thought this hilarious, and they stopped what they were doing to watch. The uproar of laughter was enough to draw Thorin's attention.

"What's going on out there?" he called, in oddly good spirits.

"Your cousin is dancing with the hobbit, m'lord!" someone shouted. This was enough for Fíli and Kíli to bust out laughing.

"What do you think of him, Eider? Bit short, wouldn't you say?" shouted Kíli.

"He's a wonderful dance partner, if you must know!" she shouted back to him. Suddenly, someone roughly shoved Bilbo out of the way and took his place. Bilbo landed with a jolt on the floor.

"Why bother dancing with the Halfling when there are so many good dwarf men in your midst? A royal lady deserves better. " the drunken dwarf shouted in her face, though he could well be heard above the noise. All around them, people stopped to gawk.

"Any member of Thorin Oakenshield's company is worthy of my time!" she spat as she pushed him aside and offered a hand to Bilbo, who was still in shock.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go somewhere else." She took his hand and whisked him out of the great hall, down narrow, twisting corridors above endless empty space. Bilbo feared they might fall, several times they came a bit too close to the edge for comfort. Finally, she let go of his hand to shove open a pair of heavy double doors. The two stepped out onto a stone terrace overlooking a room full of what appeared to be plants—the pots remained, but the vines and leaves had since turned to dust.

"Oh, my." breathed Eider, leaning on a railing that vines had once encircled. "I'd forgotten—of course it hasn't been reconstructed yet. But it was beautiful once. One of my favorite places in all of Erebor."

"A garden?" asked Bilbo, approaching her side. He could not see over the rail, but he could see between the thick stone rungs. "It must have been lovely."

"It was," she smiled wistfully. "My mother instilled in me, from a very early age, a love of nature's beauty. This garden once housed plants and flowers imported from all over Middle-Earth."

"My mother did, as well. Belladonna was her name. It was her association with Gandalf the Grey which led me on this journey. And now I don't know whether…" he paused. "I'm sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself."

"That's all right," she said.

"As…as long as I'm being forward, may I ask a rather blunt question?"

"Mr. Baggins, you may ask me anything you like."

"Well, I've…I've noticed that you don't look _entirely_ like other dwarves. You're much…well, _fairer_ than they, and you lack a…um…" he had been mistaken in thinking that no female dwarves had beards.

"A beard?" she smiled. He had expected her to be offended. "Well, to be honest, Mr. Baggins, I'm half-human."

"Really?" Bilbo asked incredulously. "I would never have guessed."

"It's true. My father took a human wife. Of course, at the time, he didn't know it. It was only until I started aging differently than most dwarf children that it was ever brought up."

"How could he not know?"

"Well, you see, my mother was…what I guess you would call a _diminutive_ in polite terms. Diminutive humans are so like dwarves in stature and build that it can easily go unnoticed. Many are cast out by their families for being inferior. My mother was from Dale. Evidently she was sent to the market one day and my father mistook her for a young dwarrowdam. He eventually began courting her, and she was so flattered that anyone would consider her worthy of courting that she did not reveal her secret until…"

"Until?" Bilbo asked. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry."

Eider's square jaw tensed. "I had a wonderful life here in Erebor," she continued. "Until I was about thirty—I think that's roughly twelve in human years. I looked odd for a dwarfling, everyone said. Too thin. No beard. Delicate features. Everyone knew that my mother looked strange as well, and so…" Eider looked down at her bejeweled fingers splayed on the rail. "She was summoned to a council and questioned. After it was discovered she was human, she was thrown out of Erebor, on the charges of being an 'infiltrator', for lack of a better term. But really it was because she, being human, married a dwarf man—brother to the princess, no less—and diluted the royal bloodline. I never saw her again after that, and never will. This was all ninety years ago, and she is certainly dead now." She crossed her arms and tried her best not to look upset, but Bilbo could see her chin quiver a bit.

"I'm sorry," he said, reaching up to touch her arm. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No…it's quite all right. It was a long time ago." Eider replied, trying to hide the fact that she was brushing away a tear. "So what about you, Mr. Baggins? What of your family?"

"Well…I come from a long line of rather adventurous hobbits. Some distant relative of mine, according to Gandalf, invented the game of golf by decapitating and orc and rolling its head into a hole in the ground with a stick." Eider laughed at that, and he continued. "My mother was wonderful, always taking me out into the woods and on holidays, when most hobbits were content to stay in the Shire and let life continue on as normal. I suppose that's where I got my—admittedly long dormant—sense of adventure from. She and my father never saw eye-to-eye. He was a brewmaster, and quite content to be rather sedentary. They were pleasant enough to each other, but he never shared in her wanderlust."

"Hm," his companion hummed. "And you ended up here. Quite adventurous, I'd say."

"Yes. And now Fíli and Kíli wish me to stay. I don't know what to do."

She glanced at him hopefully. "Whatever you decide. I'm sure we'd all be glad of your company." Turning to him, she added, "Did you have any remaining family in the Shire?"

"No, it was just me. It got sort of lonely sometimes, but I've always been rather solitary."

She gave a sort of half-smile. "I daresay we must be quite a shock to you, then."

"At first. The entire company showed up on my doorstep one night and completely ransacked my pantry," he said. "But I soon got used to their antics."

She smiled. Not a half-smile, but a full, joyous grin. Bilbo felt captivated by it. "Well, good!" she laughed. "Are you in any sort of mood to go back to the feast?"

"I suppose I could, for a while longer."

As she led him away, he thought to himself that he'd do anything for her to see her smile like that again. He knew what to do—he'd rebuild the garden. She'd been through so much and still managed to remain in good cheer. He'd give her back just one happy memory. She deserved it.

Which meant he would be staying. For a while, at least.

* * *

**Looks like a change in plans for our dear Mr. Baggins. But how long can he last? Or will love, as they say, conquer all?**

**Whatever is left of my sanity has taken a liking to thriving on reviews. Keep it alive and well, won't you?**

**:) **

**-S. S. **


End file.
